


The Hardest Truths

by Laura1013



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fix It, jaime Lannister didn’t die, season 8 from half of episode 4 was trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-30 18:18:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19408756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laura1013/pseuds/Laura1013
Summary: Brienne deals with the aftermath of Jaime leaving in Episode 4





	The Hardest Truths

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this after episode 4, I was livid about the bull D&D pulled with Jaime's character. This has just been kind of sitting on my computer because I didn't want to deal after the finale. I will always be upset with how they threw years of character development out (for not just Jaime, though I think the massacre of his character was the worst.) for what? CGI dragon fire? So here is my contribution to the fandom. 
> 
> **Un-beta'd all errors are mine**

She watched him leave until her tears clouded her vision and the cold began to seep into her bones. Shaking from her tears, from the cold, from the force of her heart shattering she turned and walked back into the castle, slowly back to their-no her chamber. It will never be theirs again, she thought bitterly. She laid on her bed, the bed that still smelled of him-of him and her together. The sobs wracked her large frame. Her tears burning her eyes, as if the pain of him leaving her in the had to be felt physically too. She’s utterly devastated in a way she has never felt before. This pain is worse than the pain she felt when she lost Renly; This is more than just sorrow—its sorrow, devastation and anger all rolled up into one.

She’s not angry at Jaime–not really, no she’s angry at herself because she _knew_ , knew this is what would happen the moment she let a man into her heart. Everyone in her life as she grew and just kept growing told her she wasn’t built for the love of a man. “Never believe their words, men lie,” her vile septa told her when she was thirteen and graceless, tall and ugly, “only the mirror will tell you the truth.” The words hurt, but the truth often does.

Her septa had been cold and often a cruel woman, but Brienne looked back at her teachings with fondness, because while the woman had held no love for Brienne, her words had prepared her for the cruelty of the world.

Even her father, who loved her, told her often “don’t worry my little star, I will always love you and Tarth will always be yours”, he knew no other man would want her, would love her. After her third broken engagement, when she cut off all her hair, the one thing that made her look slightly feminine, took her sword and her bronze armor her father had had made for her, and left her island home to join Renly’s army. She knew then, love and children, the trappings of the female world–they were not for her. She accepted the fate the Gods bestowed upon her and made her life hers on her own terms.

She locked away her soft, maiden’s heart behind walls thicker and taller than any castle walls and decided she would die for a cause. Die protecting Renly, bring glory to Tarth the only way her ugly face and a large body would allow–with her sword.

Soon Renly died, and found herself sworn to Catelyn Stark, a good woman who saw good in Brienne. Brienne loved Catelyn loved her like a mother because Catelyn looked beyond her ugliness and saw inside her, where few ever had and those fateful decisions led her to Jaime.

Brienne rolled over and gathered his pillow to her, she closed her eyes and inhaled his scent, a scent that after two months of laying his head upon it, lingered. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend he was using the privy or gone for wine, but no those were all lies; He’d left. Another sob tore loose, and she buried her face in his pillow and let the soft cotton and feathers absorb her tears.

Brienne awoke with a start sometime later, it’s morning now, she can see the thin grey winter light through the shudders that cover her windows, to a light but persistent knock.

“Brienne, it’s Sansa please let me in.”

She rises from the bed, stiff and sore, still clad in her house-robe, her eyes puffy and swollen from her tears and opens the door and moves aside to let Sansa enter the room.

Sansa’s soft look of concern nearly undoes her, it’s not pity on her fine, beautiful features, but empathy. The empathy of a woman who had known loss and pain, pain first from people with the surname Lannister.

Brienne watched Sansa gracefully glide to the two chairs by the fire, chairs where her and Jaime had spent many nights laughing, debating, and planning. Planning for a future that wasn’t to be, a future he didn’t want, a future she would now face alone. The pain hit Brienne anew and with it a wave of nausea that she couldn’t fight, blindly she lurched to the chamber pot, kept by the far window, and Brienne’s supper from the night before made a reappearance.

Brienne heard Sansa stand and move to the water basin while she heaved into the pot. Then suddenly she felt a cool cloth on the back of her neck and Sansa’s cool fingers brushing back her hair and cooing soft sounds. Slowly the nausea subsided, and she rocked back on her heels. Sansa handed her the cloth wordlessly and moved back to the chair and sat, waiting for Brienne to recover enough to join her.

With a deep breath Brienne stood on shaky legs and moved to sit in the chair, she stared into the fire unable to meet her lady’s eyes, unwilling to see how she had let her down.

“Did you tell him last night? Before he left? Did he leave knowing you carry his child?” Sansa asked matter-of-factly, and Brienne turned her eyes from the fire to look at her. Sansa’s look was full of compassion and worry. Her look almost made Brienne’s tears start anew, but she bit her lip instead to try to keep her composure.

Brienne knew Sansa was never one to mince words, at least not with her and Brienne respected and cherished their friendship, forged from steel and warfare, she knew she would never again have a friendship like the one she shared with her lady. Sansa knew she could trust Brienne above all others and Brienne knew the same. Theirs was a special friendship, one based in deep loyalty and that was rare in their world.

“No, My Lady,” Brienne replied in a small voice, so unlike her normal tone. “I couldn’t bring myself to tell him last night, he was distant at supper and then when we retired to our chamber we made love, now I know it was a goodbye of sorts, last night I-I just thought he wanted me–that he loved me.” Brienne broke off as tears came, no sobs, just tears, running down her cheeks into the collar of her robe. She looked down at her hands then, clasped tightly in her lap unable to bear Sansa’s sympathetic gaze.

She felt Sansa move then, kneel at her feet and grab her hands, here in this room they weren’t liege lady and sworn sword, they were women, friends. Women who had suffered and conquered in this world of men, in different ways, but conquered still.

“Brienne look at me, please,” Sansa begged and slowly Brienne met her eyes.

“Brienne, I have no love for Jaime Lannister, you know this, you know when I look at him, I see Joffery’s face,” Sansa gripped her hands tighter. “But Brienne, my views of him have little to do with whom he is and more to do with his name.”

Brienne took in a depth breath, shocked at the raw honesty in Sansa’s words. She had always been cool towards Jaime. Not harsh, but also not welcoming, though she had offered Jaime a place at Winterfell as her preferred guest with no prompting from Brienne, but she knew that was a gift for her and not a measure of Sansa’s admiration for him.

“If I’m honest about Jaime Lannister, he’s complicated and charming and he’s an honorable knight Brienne. When you stood in front of us and proclaimed, he was honorable and worthy I trusted you. I worried you were wrong, but I trusted you. Then he fought in the long night, he protected you, he protected Pod, and he protected _Winterfell_. He helped us mourn our dead, and he’s spent the last two months rebuilding Winterfell. He didn’t do all that for me Brienne, or for a home here in the North, he did that for you.”

Brienne glanced down at her hands, larger and rougher clasped in Sansa’s more delicate ones.

“He loves you Brienne, he may not have said it, but to be fair did you tell him you love him?” She asked tilting her head down to force Brienne to meet her eyes.

“Did you Brienne? Did you tell him you loved him?” She asked more forcefully.

“No, Brienne answered, her voice not much more than a whisper.

Sansa smiled then and squeezed her hands once more.

“He loves you Brienne, I don’t know what he said to you, and I need not know, but he’s left not to be with his sister, but to end her.”

Brienne jerked her head up then, that was not a thought had occurred to her. His words had been so sharp, sharper than Oathkeeper, cutting at her very soul. His words had been her greatest fears, that he didn’t love her, that she was a joke and would never live up to the perfection of his sister.

“Then why not take me with him, Sansa? Why say those things? Why break my heart?” Brienne asked, her voice breaking on a sob and she lowered her head till her chin hit her chest, she was trying to curl in on herself. Sansa pulled on her hands again, not letting her hide.

“To protect you. You don’t know Cersei’s cruelty, not really, you may have seen it in the capital when you were there for those months but I _lived_ it for years and in her own way she was worse than Joffery and Ramsey. They hurt my body, but she–she wounded my soul. I cannot imagine what she would do to the woman who stole her favorite possession away from her.” Sansa finished in a cool almost detached tone that Brienne knew Sansa used when she began to think of her past.

Brienne thought back to that terrible day all those years ago at what they had coined the Purple Wedding, how Cersei had looked at her and knew, just knew her most guarded secret.

“You love him.” Cersei had told her a smile upon her face and malice in her eyes that promise pain and suffering and Brienne had been fearful in a way she had never been in the past. Cersei was a villain and viper hidden behind beautiful face and perfect clothes. Brienne had never felt so far out of her depth with a foe, and what was worse was she knew Cersei knew her vulnerabilities. Like a snake with its prey. When Brienne had turned and saw Jaime watching them, she saw the fear in his, similar to the fear he saw when he came back for her at Harenhal.

“She’s already sent Ser Bronn to execute Ser Jaime and Tyrion and if she would do that to her own brothers, one of whom fathered her three children, then what Brienne would she do to you?” Sansa asked as if to her the answer was clear and Brienne supposed it was. Cersei would kill Brienne for daring to steal Jaime, and her death would be slow and painful. An involuntary shudder ran through Brienne’s body at the thought. It was well known what Cersei had done to Elaria Sand, how she tortured her slowly in the black cells, far beneath the Red Keep.

Brienne gasped at that, she did not know Cersei had sent Ser Bronn to kill the Lannister brothers, all Jaime had told her was that he had come to Wintertown to hide from Cersei till the war ended, why didn’t he tell her? Why did he lie?

“What would she do when she found out you carry his babe?” Sansa asked her, a coldness in her voice, that Brienne knew wasn’t for her, but for this woman who enjoyed destroying people.

“She wouldn’t just kill you Brienne, she would torture you, make Jaime watch and then only the Seven know what she would do to your child. Jaime is not a stupid man, and he knows his sister, he knows better than any of us what she is capable of and he will not let her hurt you.” Sansa voiced Brienne’s very thoughts, and she felt her body go even colder at the thought of what Cersei might do to her child–to Jaime.

Brienne tore her eyes away from Sansa’s and stared into the fire. She felt wrung out like her skin didn’t fit her body and suddenly she stood.

Brienne was not a woman of inaction, sitting and weeping by the fire was not her. She looked to her right, where she kept her armor on its stand with Oathkeeper hanging. She turned around and looked at Sansa who was also standing now, her hands clasped in front of her, every inch the indomitable Lady of Winterfell.

“What do I do? I cannot let him die,” Brienne asked.

Sansa smiled, not her normal kind smile that Brienne was one of the few to see, but her court smile. The smile that hid all emotion but calculation.

“Go after him Brienne, take four horses and Pod and follow him, if I am wrong, if he is there to help his sister, I trust you to do the right thing. The thing that is best for the realm, best for the North and for Tarth.” Sansa answered her coolly.

Brienne’s blood ran cold, she couldn’t feel her hands, she felt like she had been on the walls of Winterfell for hours because she knew what Sansa just tasked her with. If Jaime’s plan was to aid Cersei, Brienne would have to stop him-to execute him.

Brienne stood straighter, steel in her spine the warrior once again. She would put away her woman’s heart once again and instead done her armor. Do what was best for her Lady, her child and the realm, as a knight of the Seven Kingdoms should.

“Yes, My Lady, you can trust me to do what is right no matter the cost.”

Sansa smiled “I know Brienne, but I really hope it doesn’t come to that. I will leave you to prepare. I will make sure Pod knows to get the best horses and pack. The sooner you leave, the better I think.” 

Sansa moved to her and gathered Brienne into her arms for a quick but tight embrace, Sansa had a strength that Brienne would not know because Jaime had saved her from that kind of fate twice. She owed her life to Jaime, but she promised to serve Sansa and now there was a third more innocent person she had to protect. One she hadn’t met, one she had only known of for a couple of days, but one that she would make sure was born to a better world.

“Good luck Brienne,” Sansa told her, broke the hug and left her to prepare.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Brienne and Pod did not catch Jaime on the road, Pod also never asked for any details of what happened between her and Jaime, though he knew it had been horrible. Brienne told Pod only that Jaime had left in the night and that Lady Sansa had tasked them to go Kingslanding and make sure Jaime was not endangering the Northern Forces in the war or betraying The North to his sister.

Pod looked stricken to know that Jaime, whom he admired, might now once again be an enemy, but to his credit he kept his opinions and thoughts silent.

They made it to Kingslanding at the very end of the war; The Red Keep a smoking heap. Both Queens dead as were both their hands and Jaime was hurt. That was all Brienne knew as she made her way into what was left of the keep. The throne room destroyed, as were the gardens, most of it lost to dragon fire. 

Jon was Aegon Targaryen, and as much he didn’t want to rule, he would rule. Maybe peace will welcome spring, Brienne hoped. Knowing that inside Jon, she could not bring herself to think of him as Aegon, was a decent man and would be a fair and just ruler. 

Jon summoned Brienne to his command tent the instant his Grace learned of their arrival.

“Ser Brienne, my sister’s raven arrived before you did. I want to tell you Jaime did not betray us. He helped in the end. Also, you are released from your service as Sansa’s sworn sword, your future is yours, you may return to Winterfell if you wish or not but you will always be an esteemed friend to the north and to the crown.” His eyes were solemn, but his smile was soft and genuine.

He stood and came around the large desk he was sitting behind and handed her a paper, closed with the new royal seal. “This is for you Ser Brienne, your future is yours, though I hope you won’t be a stranger.” Jon Smiled, Brienne returned his smile weakly and headed for the door, but stopped and turned to Jon.

“Your Grace, where is Ser Jaime? I would like to see him before I leave.” She told him, meeting his eye like the soldier she was–with strength and honor. She would not cower from this, the pity in his eyes. She took Jaime to her bed, and while she does not like the way it ended, she cannot bring herself to regret it. She loved Jaime and loves his child that grows in her womb. 

Jon smiled, softening his face and showing the kind man he is. No hint of judgment or pity in his steady gaze. “He’s in the White Tower, in his old rooms I believe, that part of the Keep was mostly undamaged.” He told her simply.

She turned and headed through the door, but the King called her back into the room before she could exit completely. “And Brienne?”

“Yes, your Grace.” She turned and faced him once again.

“Don’t be too rough with Ser Jaime. It’s hard to choose duty over the woman you love.” He told her with a sadness lurking in his eyes. She didn’t know much about the king, not personally, but she knew that the two women he had loved he had had to choose duty over both.

Brienne answered him with a curt nod and left the room quickly.

Brienne headed to the White Tower shortly after her meeting with Jon. She wasn’t sure of what she would find, all they had told her was he was injured, but he would recover and Brienne found herself relieved at that knowledge. He may not love her, not as she did him, but she had prayed for his life and safety and a small part of her heart- that woman’s part was happy he lived.

All too soon she found herself outside his door. This was a room she knew well. During her time in the keep all those years ago they shared meals, and conversations here. This room and that time with him was almost as dear to her as their time together in Winterfell.

Brienne rubbed her slightly rounded stomach as she stood before the closed door, a habit she had taken too recently to calm herself. It helped to center her, to know that her child still grew inside her, she now had a purpose unlike any of the others, not better or worse just very different she thought.

With one final deep breath she knocked on the door.

“Enter!” Jaime’s voice called out clear and not sounding encumbered by pain.

Brienne pushed open the heavy door and entered, he sat at a desk by the window a few dozen crumpled papers surrounding him.

When he looked up and noticed her, he scrambled to his feet, so like that night all those months ago when he knighted her. She almost smiled at the memory but stopped and schooled her face to the impassive look she mastered years ago under the words of the many who strived to hurt her.

“Lady Brienne–I mean Ser Brienne,” he said almost breathlessly. He was looking at her like she was an apparition, his shock clear on his face. He began to walk towards her, but his leg crumpled, and he had to sit back down.

Looking at him now she could see the bruises and scratches on his face and neck and burns on his arms, and she wondered what his role in this final battle had been. Had he killed his sister? Had she tried to kill him again? Ultimately though, these were questions she would not ask, answers she wasn’t sure she could hear, her heart still too fragile after he broke it.

“Ser Jaime.” She responded to his greeting, unable to say more as memories of him assaulted her.

He smiled at her then, obviously uneasy with the surprise of her presence.

“I was just trying to write to you,” he laughed without humor. “Honestly, I’ve been trying to write to you for days, I can’t travel yet, my leg was trapped by a burning beam of the Throne Room on that final day, but I wanted to write to you and let you know that I would travel north soon.” He finished quietly, his gaze dropping from hers.

“Why would you travel north Ser Jaime? You hate the north.” She asked her tone harsh and clipped.

He jerked his up as if she had struck him, his face full of sadness and eyes full of longing.

“To beg your forgiveness Brienne.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, when he opened them again, his green eyes where glassy with unshed tears.

“I would come north to beg you to let me be at your side again, to let me earn back your trust and maybe one day you would want my love again because I love you Brienne, I didn’t tell you in the north because–well because I don’t suppose I’ve ever been very good with words.” He said with a laugh. His look sobers then, and his eyes leave her face as he takes her in almost hungrily. She doesn’t think anyone can tell, her armor still fits, though she has the buckle on her plackart on its loosest setting. She will soon have to have it altered or quit wearing it altogether until the babe is born.

“Brienne will you say something, please. I am at loose ends here.” He smiled, a sad but hopeful smile.

“Will you sit? Maybe join me for some wine?” His voice is almost teasing as he asks her to join him in drinking some wine. She knows he is thinking back to that first night. How easy it would be to forgive him, to take him back into her heart and body. Doesn’t she want that? He’s remorseful, and his sister is no longer an obstacle and they could be a family she thinks and part of her so wants to forgive him, forgive, forget and move on.

No, Brienne thinks, she and this child would always be his second choice, and while they would probably be happy for a time, eventually it would sour and he would resent her, resent her for not being _her,_ for not being Cersei.

She clears her throat and takes a deep fortifying breath, and she internally makes sure her walls around her heart are high and sturdy once again, so high and sturdy that Jaime Lannister cannot breech them once again.

“I have a purpose for this visit, Ser Jaime,” she told him her voice low and steely, not betraying the riotous emotions brewing inside.

“Ser Jaime,” he repeats her words on a sad whisper.

Brienne clears her throat and continues, knowing he needs to know but not entirely sure how he will react or how she will handle his reaction good or bad.

“I have been released from Lady Sansa’s service, with the North safe and secure it is time for me to focus my attentions elsewhere.”

Brienne watches his face light up slightly, the dull embers of his green eyes sparking with hope. He sits patiently waiting for her to continue.

“I will return to Tarth from here, as soon as I can find a ship to take me. It is time to embrace this peace we have worked so hard for and learn my duties as the Evenstar heir. I have neglected my home and my people for far too long and my father is not a young man, but I couldn’t leave Kingslanding without seeing you Ser Jaime.”

She watches him smile and stand again, except this time he holds out his hand, expecting her to take it. She does not move, and a small petty part of her heart is glad when the happiness drains from him and both his smile and his hand lower, though he remains on his feet.

“I’m pregnant, Ser Jaime.” She tells him succinctly and watches as he grasps the table to maintain his balance.

“It is yours; I have, of course not lain with anyone else, but it is time for me to hang up my armor and sword and raise my child on Tarth. To teach him or her all the lessons my father and life has taught me. Hopefully, it will be a child of spring and peace.” She finishes her hand again absentmindedly rubbing her stomach over her armor.

He stares at her for a bit and then very slowly he walks over to where she is standing by the door, she can see that it is painful for him to do so, but she does not move, she does not offer assistance as he struggles. She is not the kind, loving woman he left behind six weeks prior. She is cold, the fallen maid of Tarth, untouchable and unlovable. She knows these things now as sure as she knows her own name.

But then he’s touching her, his handless arm around her waist and his hand on her cheek, and oh Gods it feels so good Brienne thinks. She almost leans her cheek into his touch, but she does not–instead she remembers. Remembers his hand pulling hers from his face on that cold night. She uses that memory like a sword, protecting her heart from more pain.

“Marry me Brienne, today, let us marry and go to your island and live. Jon has asked me to be his hand, but I will tell him no. I will tell him I wish to live a quiet life with my Lady Ser and our child. Let us raise our child in the warmth of summer, surrounded by your sapphire waters and basking in love.” He begs her.

“My child, Jaime, this is my child, I won’t ever lie to it when it asks about its father, but this child is mine not ours.” She tells him, her voice bitter and cold. Cold in a way she had never been before.

“You would raise him a bastard?” He asks his eyes pleading with her, fear plainly clear in his beautiful green eyes.

She holds up the letter the King gave her, a letter legitimizing her child as a true-born Tarth, a thank you for her services in the war of the dawn and for protecting Sansa.

“No, this is a letter from the King, making my child mine and legitimate. You left Jaime, you left and your reasons were your own, but you left and now you are not welcome.” Slowly she steps back out of his arms, leaving him to stand on his own.

“Brienne,” his voice begging almost panicked. “Brienne no. Please, I beg you please don’t do this. Give me a chance to earn back your trust.” His eyes wild.

She shook her head, and he grabbed her again, his lips on hers. Pressing and trembling against hers, and she gave in, memories, happy memories assaulted her, and she kisses him back. With a sob he gathers her against him again, his hand on her neck and in her hair, not unlike the first time he kissed her. With a cry she tears away.

“No, Jaime stop,” and he did instantly, but he didn’t take his hands off her.

“Brienne,” he whispered, his breath puffing against her lips and face he remained so close. “Brienne please, just talk to me. I–I know words aren’t our strong suit, but I think we need them now. I’m sure you’re hungry and tired from the road. They will bring in lunch shortly stay, eat with me and let us talk.”

Brienne felt herself bend, her resolve softening under his gaze, this was the man she had loved for years and felt like for those two months in Winterfell, in his arms like he loved her. Maybe she should talk to him, listen to his reasoning. She didn’t have to forgive, but she could allow him to explain and then she could go home, heal and move on.

She nodded and allowed him to lead her to the table he occupied when she first walked in. She frowned when he pulled her chair out like she was the grandest, prettiest lady at court. She didn’t trust his gestures anymore, didn’t trust his manners held any deeper meaning regarding her.

She looked up and stared at his handsome face; he was bruised, and cuts scabbed over just starting to heal. His hair was still longish and a bit unruly, and his beard, peppered with gray now still long and needed to be trimmed. He looked like her Jaime, the Jaime that came to Winterfell to fight for the living, the Jaime that kissed her, and loved her body and for once made her feel safe and desirable. She dropped her eyes from his face to her hands in her lap, because gazing upon his handsome face was too painful.

“Brienne,” his voice begged, “Please look at me, please talk to me?” He asked, his hand covering her fidgeting ones in her lap. He made her this way, fidgety and nervous, sad and sick, and what was worse was she missed him, and she hated herself for it.

She closed her eyes and gathered all the woman’s courage she had, because it took a different kind of courage to have this conversation than it took to face a battlefield. Battles were easy for Brienne; She knew how to move, how to fight and how to survive there. This–these feelings this kind of hurt, she didn’t know how to navigate this, how to survive it.

Breathing slow and steady, trying to calm her traitorous heart Brienne opened her eyes to find him staring at her with such open longing that she didn’t know to interpret it or him.

“You hurt me Jaime,” she starts softly, “I–I found out that morning you understand, about the babe that is and I wanted to tell you, but you were so distant and I knew it was about your sister, but I thought you would eventually talk to me about it but you didn’t. Instead, you snuck out of our room, after fucking me, and if I hadn’t heard you leave, I wouldn’t even know.”

She dragged her eyes from their hands back to his, and the pain in them made her stop, could this be hurting him too? Did he not want to leave like Sansa said?

Tears filled her eyes and she thinks about how she begged him to stay, did he not know how hard it was for _her_ , the ugly Maid of Tarth to beg him to stay, with her? He should have never been with her, but he had been, he let her believe she had been worthy and deserving of love. Not just a joke, not just a huge body for men to either ridicule or want as a novelty or a conquest. He just made her feel loved and happy. It was the worst kind of joke, to give her something she never should have dared to reach for and then rip it out from under her just as she became used to it.

She felt his hand on her face, wiping the tears from her cheeks she didn’t know were falling. Damn him, another thing, another weakness that he will know about her.

“I begged you to stay!” She sobbed, and closed in on herself, hunching her shoulders and drawing her legs together, making her body smaller like she did as a child when she couldn’t take to harsh words of others. “I would have done anything to protect you, Jaime, ANYTHING. I loved you so very much and you just threw it away! The words you said, all the things you did for Cersei, I knew–I knew then I would always be second place. Second choice, the ugly woman, who you admire, sure, whom you maybe care for but you will never truly love, not really, not like her.”

Brienne sat up and met his gaze, tears making his green eyes look more lovely, eyes that matched Cersei’s so completely. How did she think she could ever compete with what he had with her? She was nothing compared to the beauty and power that had been Cersei. Even now, with her dead, her ghost would always haunt him, occupy a part of his soul that Brienne couldn’t touch.

Jaime made a frustrated noise then and pulled her chair so close to his that her knees were between his spread legs and she was close enough to him again she could smell the soap he used to bathe. Something spicy and masculine, an extravagance they didn’t have in the North, another reminder that here was where he belonged, somewhere she didn’t.

“Stop Brienne please! I am so sorry I hurt you, but I needed you to stay! To stay safe. She had already sent Bronn to kill me, and when I learned Daenerys and my brother were losing, I knew we would never be safe, and I was the only one that could reach her.”

He grabbed her face with his hand, desperation clear not only in his voice but also in his actions, Brienne wasn’t sure exactly what he was desperate for, her understanding? Her forgiveness? Her love? She wasn’t sure she could offer any of them right now.

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” She asked, tears clouding her voice. She hated this, hated being weak in front of him. “Jaime, I was–I thought I was at least your friend? Someone you could trust; I gave you something in those weeks, something precious to me. Not just my maidenhead you understand, though that was important too, I gave you my unconditional trust, I let you into my very soul in a way I had vowed I would never do, because I _knew_ it would only end in heartbreak and pain for me. But I thought you knew that you could trust me.” She ended quietly, trying to pull her hands free of his lone one, but his grip tightened.

“Brienne,” his voice cracking on emotion. “I knew I could trust you, but I couldn’t trust myself. I couldn’t trust myself to not do the right thing, the honorable thing and I was afraid if I told you what I needed to do you would talk me out of it or beg to come with me.”

Brienne took a deep breath scared to ask what was on the tip of her tongue, afraid of the answer he might give, but knowing that to move on either together or separate she needed to know.

“Why did you need to come back? To save her? To die with her? Why Jaime? She had been losing, you had to know that she wasn’t a fit queen, she blew up the sept, her actions drove _her_ child–your child, your _King_ to throw himself from a tower window. Why wasn’t I enough?” She cried, her tears streaming down her face as she looks into his green eyes, so full of pain but she can’t decipher for who. For her or for Cersei.

“I know I’m not beautiful Jaime, but you didn’t seem to mind that, if fact you seemed like you wanted me, enjoyed being with me for all those weeks we were together. So please tell me why. Tell me why you loved me and then left me like that. What did I do to deserve such pain?” She finished on a whisper her voice full of pain, a pain she hadn’t allowed herself to feel for years. Not since she was a young girl, rejected by every man that showed up on Tarth to court her.

With some effort Jaime left his chair and knelt before her on one knee, had Brienne been a woman of normal height she would’ve only been slightly taller than him, instead it was a reminder to her of her size, just how great of a freak she truly was.

Jaime brought her hand still clasped in his up to his mouth and gently kissed her knuckles and Brienne sobbed anew at the action, because it hurt so much, because inside all she could feel was the cold seeping into her body as he rode away that night not the warmth of his gentle caress.

“Brienne you are beautiful, to me you are the most beautiful woman to ever grace my presence.”

“Please, Jaime, I’m ugly but I’m not stupid. I am not and will never be beautiful. Please don’t start lying to me now.” She whispers harshly her anger beginning to return anew.

“I am not lying, I cannot tell you when I began to look at you and see your beauty, was it Harenhall in that horrible moth eaten dress that showed off your lovely neck or was it Riverrun when you appeared in my tent in the armor I had made for you, wearing the sword I gave you? If I’m honest, it was in the baths at Harenhall.”

Brienne scoffed at his words, and Jaime smiled ruefully at the sound. “I’m serious Brienne, even on the brink of death my body wanted you when you stood, a warrior maid come to life, like something from a story. But then you sat down, and you listened to me, listened to me talk about what was my greatest sin and my greatest triumph all rolled into one and you didn’t judge me. I knew then you were the most beautiful creature I would ever encounter, and I would never be worthy of you.”

Brienne leaned back her eyes closed trying to fight the onslaught of memories his words had unleashed on her soul. Memories both good and bad combined and oh so dear to her.

“Brienne please look at me,” Jaime implores, his words soft but firm and she opens her eyes again and watches him warily. She is so tired, bone-achingly tired, and it’s not just from the traveling and her pregnancy she knows, but from her turbulent emotions since he left her a month ago.

“Brienne, I left because I don’t deserve you. I am a hateful man, a man that fucked his sister, put his child born from that unholy match on a throne they had no right to, I had sins I had to atone for. I couldn’t have you follow me; I couldn’t let you die for my sins and I knew I would probably die and it would have been a just punishment for all I had done.” He sighed then and brings her hand to his lips, but he doesn’t kiss her fingers, he just rubs them back and forth over his lips and beard while he thinks.

“I knew I couldn’t save her; I knew she would die and in truth I didn’t want to save her. Another sin on my soul I suppose, not wanting to save my sister, but I thought maybe I could once again save this city. The people they didn’t deserve to die, but I did neither, I sounded the surrender, but then Daenerys burned it, anyway.” Brienne could see the light in his eyes die a little telling the tale. His heart broke at failing the unknown people he couldn’t protect, another failure he would have to shoulder.

Brienne’s heart broke a second time, this time for Jaime not because of him. She pulled her hand from his, but cupped his face, offering him the comfort he needed. He leaned into her touch and closed his eyes to continue his tale.

“By the time I got to the Red Keep it was collapsing around me, the fire was so hot and then I found her, pinned by some fallen rock but still alive. She begged me to save her, told me she loved me, that she was sorry. I leaned down, and I kissed her forehead and told her to not be scared and then I slit her throat. She was gone already, but I couldn’t let her suffer.” He sobbed then, his shoulders heaving from the force of his tears and buried his head in her lap.

“Shhhh, it’s all right, Jaime. You did what you could; she knew you loved her above all others. Shhh don’t cry. It’s will be all right.” Brienne whispered as she stroked her fingers through his hair. He had hurt her it was true, but Brienne didn’t want him in this kind of pain.

After a few moments his sobbing ceased and his tears slowed, but Brienne kept touching him, offering him what comfort she could.

He looked up, his face red and wet with tears, and still achingly handsome and smiled at her. “But I didn’t” He told her plainly.

“Didn’t what Jaime?” she asked him confused.

“I didn’t love her above all others, at least not in the end. I loved her as a sister, but I hadn’t loved her like a lover in years. I love you above all others, well now I love you and this new little one.” He said smiling and put his hand over her armor on her stomach, and she covered it with hers and smiled. Allowing for a moment to dream, to wish they might be a family, but she didn’t trust him anymore.

“Jaime, I love you,” she whispered, and he beamed. “I love you to- “, she covered his mouth with her fingers, not letting him continue. “I love you Jaime, but I no longer trust you. I’m sorry.” She whispered sadly. His eyes fell, and he removed her hand from his lips and kissed them.

“I understand Brienne, but let me ask you this, is it completely gone? What we shared? Or can I earn it back, will you give me a second chance? A chance to be the good man you thought I was, the good man I want to be?” He asked her with such sincerity it made her breathless.

Suddenly she remembered something her father told her when she was small and her only friend around Evenfall, the shipmaster’s daughter had called he ugly during a row and then had told her she was sorry days later and that she wanted to play again.

“Everyone makes mistakes little star,” he told her while she sat on his lap crying the tears only a little girl can cry, “and everyone deserves a second chance. A chance to right their mistake and prove they can do better.” He squeezed her to his chest and then wiped her tears and kissed her cheek.

“But no one deserves a third chance, if they break your trust again, then they can’t be trusted at all remember that Brienne. Second chances, but no third ones.”

Brienne smiled a little at the memory and then looked at Jaime still kneeling at her feet. Broken, complicated Jaime. A man that most would think didn’t deserve love, didn’t deserve second chance, only deserved ridicule and scorn, but isn’t that what people thought of her? The great lumbering beast of woman, only good for scorn and ridicule.

“No Jaime, you haven’t destroyed it completely, I can forgive, and we can learn to trust each other again I think,” she told him softly and watched his eyes fill with happiness.

“But Jaime, I don’t give third chances. If you feel the need to lie or leave to protect me, you will never be welcome in my life again. Can you live with that? Can you respect that?” She asked him, her voice grave and serious.

The look he gave her then was serious and earnest in a way Brienne had rarely seen Jaime be.

“I won’t need a third chance. I will spend the rest of my life being the good man you think I can be.”

He stood then, with some difficulty and this time she helped him stand and he kissed her. Not with the desperate passion of their first kiss, but with reverence and love. The type kiss that people wrote songs about and she kissed him back without guilt or regret only with love.


End file.
